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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001426">The Stars Who Listen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewayshedreamed/pseuds/thewayshedreamed'>thewayshedreamed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Grief, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Modern AU, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, feysand au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:56:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,664</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewayshedreamed/pseuds/thewayshedreamed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Written to fill the prompt submitted– Is it weird that I want you to write we’re Feyre dies while 9 month pregnant and the baby survives and we get to see his grief etc..</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elain Archeron/Azriel, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Stars Who Listen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for mentions of trauma, death, and grief.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Have you left already?”</p><p>A small chuckle came through the phone. “ I did, why?”</p><p>It was a more-than-fair question. Feyre often got tied up after an art class; either in answering the attendants’ questions or helping them finish up the day’s steps.</p><p>Rhysand pouted, even though she couldn’t see him. “I wanted to pick you up at the studio. I’m not used to you leaving on time,” he teased.</p><p>“I’ve also never been massively pregnant, either,” she commented through a laugh. “Stella is hungry, which means I’m nearly violent. She’s not at all patient.”</p><p>“Gets that from you,” Rhys muttered, unable to help himself.</p><p>A loud, melodic laugh came through the phone; one of his favorite sounds in the world.</p><p>“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she replied, a smile still evident in her voice.</p><p>“How is our little love today?” he asked, his voice softening at the mention of his daughter.</p><p>“Active. Very active. I’ve taken a couple of direct rib shots throughout class. She doesn’t like when I lean over.”</p><p>“<em>Definitely</em> doesn’t get that from me,” he mused, as he leaned his elbow on the ledge near the car door’s window.</p><p>“Definitely not,” she giggled, then paused for a few seconds. “So, I’ll meet you at Rita’s then?”</p><p>“See you soon.” He pulled the phone away from his ear; his thumb poised over the “end” button.</p><p>“Hey, Rhys?” Feyre called urgently.</p><p>He scrambled the phone back up to his ear. “Yeah? You okay?”</p><p>“I’m fine. Just wanted to say that I love you,” she finished, her voice soft.</p><p>“Love you more, Darling.“</p><p>—</p><p>Rhysand requested his and Feyre’s favorite table at Rita’s. The restaurant was casual, not much to fuss over, but they had spent so many of their early days together at this very place. It was only fitting that they have another date here, just the two of them, before their daughter made her appearance in the next few weeks.</p><p>He ordered their drinks and an appetizer to make sure there was something on the table upon Feyre’s arrival. Hell hath no fury like a pregnant woman hangry. Pre-pregnancy, he would have been capable of guessing her food order, but he didn’t dare try now. Her moods and cravings changed by the hour, and he had screwed up enough times by now to know better.</p><p>Minutes passed, and Rhys found that his eyes were flitting to the door more frequently. The studio wasn’t much farther away from Rita’s than his office, and he figured she would have shown up by now. He picked up his phone to call her, but he could hear her eyes rolling at his overprotectiveness. He decided he would wait a few more minutes before checking in; maybe traffic was thicker than usual.</p><p>His phone rang as he was scanning the menu for what he wanted to eat. He glanced at the screen, but he didn’t recognize the number.</p><p>"Rhysand Vila speaking,” he announced.</p><p>“Mr. Vila, I’m calling from Velaris General Hospital. Can you confirm your relation to a Ms. Feyre Archeron Vila?”</p><p>All of the blood drained from his face, his hands and feet going ice cold at the fear that gripped him.</p><p>“She’s my wife,” he managed. “Is everything alright?”</p><p>“Ms. Vila was involved in a car accident. Paramedics transported her to the emergency room via ambulance, and she arrived just moments ago. I’m afraid I don’t have an update at this time, but would you or another family member be available to come to the ER?”</p><p>“I’m on my way. Thank you.” He didn’t wait for a response before he ended the call, threw far more cash than was necessary on the table, and flew out the front door.</p><p>—</p><p>Upon arrival, Rhysand was escorted to a smaller waiting room on the surgical floor. The brief update he did receive was lacking at best, but he understood that the woman escorting him could only tell him so much. Apparently, Feyre had been involved in a multi-car pile-up on her way from the studio, and she was rushed immediately to surgery for various injuries she had sustained in the accident. The woman ensured Rhys that they had also called an OBGYN to monitor their baby’s vitals during Feyre’s surgery.</p><p>Once he called Nesta and Elain, Rhysand tried to wrap his head around everything the woman told him. Something about multiple fracture to her legs, concerns about her neck, and the possibility of several brain bleeds. Everything seemed so surreal, like a tragedy one sees on the news but doesn’t actually experience themselves.</p><p>Elain appeared around the corner of the small room, eyes frantic and her brown curls bouncing around her face. She launched herself toward Rhys, gripping him tightly around the middle as she cried. Azriel appeared next, his eyes solemn and worry etched all over his face. He wrapped his arms around Rhys and Elain and gripped them as tightly as he could until Elain pulled away.</p><p>“Have you heard anything?”</p><p>“Not yet. It’s killing me,” Rhys responded, barely aware that he was speaking at all.</p><p>Nesta and Cassian were next to arrive, repeating almost the same process as when Elain and Azriel showed up. Once any necessary information was exchanged, they all settled into a seat to wait; the only thing they were able to do. Rhys alternated between loud exhales, raking his hands through his dark hair, and intermittent pacing around the small room. He tried not to do too much of the last one because he could tell it was wearing on the others, but he didn’t know what else to do besides taking off down the hall to demand answers.</p><p>“Mr. Vila?”</p><p>Rhysand turned to see two men standing in the doorway. Both wore scrubs and scrub caps, and he assumed them to be the surgeons involved in Feyre’s care. His heart dropped at the grave look on their faces, but he knew this was a grave situation, no matter how well things could have gone in surgery.</p><p>“My name is Dr. Helion Day. I’m the neurosurgeon charged with treating your wife’s neck and brain injuries. This is Dr. Kallias Hiems. He’s the OBGYN on call to monitor your daughter.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you both. How is she? Can I see her?”</p><p>Dr. Day looked over Rhysand’s shoulder at the others before returning his eyes to meet his own.</p><p>“Feyre sustained severe impact to her skull, resulting in numerous brain hemorrhages. She also sustained significant trauma to her spinal cord during the accident,” he began. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vila, but we weren’t able to get to her in time. Your wife passed in the middle of the operation.”</p><p>Rhysand’s hearing muffled, his vision darkening at the edges and creating an almost tunnel effect around the doctors’ faces. He fixed his stare between their feet, hoping it would be enough to center him. Except that nothing about this made any sense. He was vaguely aware of muffled sobs from behind him; Elain and Nesta.</p><p>“I don’t understand.”</p><p>It was Dr. Hiems who spoke now, hoping to shed some additional light on a terrible situation.</p><p>“Dr. Day and his team were able to stabilize Feyre long enough for me to perform an emergency c-section and deliver the baby. She’s being assessed in the NICU as we speak,” Dr. Hiems explained softly. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Vila.”</p><p>Rhysand felt an eerie sort of calm take over him; a calm he only experienced in moments of crisis or trauma.</p><p>“So, all this time, and all you can come out here and tell me is how my wife is dead?” He leveled a glare at Dr. Day, not coherent enough to realize his anger was misplaced grief with nowhere to go.</p><p>He felt a broad hand on his shoulder, one of his brothers surely, but the contact only served to stoke his emotions.</p><p>“Don’t fucking touch me,” he flung behind him, to no one in particular, before addressing the two men again.</p><p>“And then you finally give me something, any update at all, and make it sound like some beautiful fucking trade?” He was yelling now. “As if my daughter is some kind of fucking consolation prize?! How fucking dare you, you son of a bitch—” His hands launched for Dr. Hiems’ lab coat before his access was cut off by Cassian’s massive frame. Cassian placed his hands on Rhysand’s chest, anchoring him in place.</p><p>“Rhys, enough. It’s not his—”</p><p>“Get out of my way, Cassian,” he ordered through clenched teeth.</p><p>Cassian did no such thing. He stayed in place as Rhys launched himself forward again, pushing his brother’s chest in an effort to get to his original target. In one swift move, Cassian shoved Rhysand’s hands toward the floor before wrapping him in a tight hug.</p><p>“No. This isn’t their fault, and you can’t afford to get arrested right now. Breathe.”</p><p>A choked sob finally wracked through Rhysand. He leaned heavily into Cassian, his hands gripping the sides of his shirt to help support himself. Cassian kept one arm tight around his back and brought the other to the back of his neck.</p><p>“She’s gone, Cass. Feyre. Feyre’s dead,” he managed, but barely. His words were hardly intelligible by anyone who wasn’t Cassian.</p><p>“I know, brother. I know. I’m so sorry,” he consoled. He pulled his head back, resting his forehead on Rhys’.</p><p>“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Rhys asked his older brother. He was supposed to know everything, after all. “I can’t do this. I can’t be a fucking dad. Not without her,” he cried. Any hint of his pride had gone out the window the second those doctors walked in.</p><p>He was somewhat aware of Nesta introducing herself to the two physicians, Azriel nearby with Elain tucked under his arm. Her face was buried in his chest as he listened to her older sister’s conversation with the doctors, collecting any additional information that Rhys was unable to get through. A sense of shame filled him at his inability to hold it together, but he didn’t have the energy to entertain it long.</p><p>“I wish I knew,” Cassian replied so only Rhys could hear, tears lining both of his eyes. “You have every right to feel what you’re feeling, but ready or not, you’re a father now. You’re Stella’s dad. You have to pick yourself up and be there for her. We’ll be there every step of the way, but she needs you right now.”</p><p>Rhysand squeezed his eyes shut against the pain in his chest, knowing Cassian was right but completely clueless as to how he could do it. Then, as if Feyre herself was in the room, he heard her voice in his head; begging him to take care of their daughter, the beautiful life they’d created together.</p><p>He’d always told her he would do anything for his girls, and it looked like he was about to prove it.</p><p>—</p><p>The next couple of months went by in a strange sort of haze; one where Rhysand felt like he was just as much a spectator as he was a participant. He had to remind himself repeatedly that this was actually his life, his circumstances. Self-pity gripped him occasionally, but he tried his best not to bask it it excessively. It held so much appeal, but it was rarely productive, if ever.</p><p>Rhysand was blessed in several ways. Amren, the vice-president of their company, assured him repeatedly that things were under control at the office. She insisted he had led them in a way that everyone knew how to absorb his duties to support him during a leave of absence, and somehow, she ended the conversation in a way that made him feel as though his leave wasn’t optional. Truthfully, he welcomed the leave, considering he found himself in single-fatherhood overnight. Amren could run the company with her eyes closed, and that made him all the more comfortable with his stepping away.</p><p>His cousin Morrigan served as the head of Human Resources, and she made sure all of his duties were properly distributed. She took on a significant amount of his administrative duties herself, and he thanked her tirelessly for how much additional work she put on her plate for him. On top of all of it, she had done her best to coordinate as much as she could after Feyre’s death; such as, proper documentation, completing paperwork and scheduling appointments for Stella, aiding in planning/coordinating Feyre’s service, and making sure there was a constant supply of food and groceries in the house. She had gone as far as to hire a housekeeper, which Rhys had originally thought to be excessive. Now, he could squeeze his cousin breathless for her forethought.</p><p>Nesta and Cassian essentially moved in temporarily to help him in the early days with Stella. Nesta insisted on being as present as possible for the baby, and Cassian was just as adamant. Rhys often overheard them bickering over who was next to hold or care for her, and Rhys laughed at the fact that Cassian was usually the victor. May the Cauldron help him if he had daughters of his own if Stella was an indication of how wrapped he would become.</p><p>Elain and Azriel were new parents themselves; to twins no less. They each took turns stopping by before and after work, while the other stayed to look after the babies. Eventually, Rhysand and Nesta teamed up to set hard limits on how much they were extending themselves, stating they could help more in another season of life. Elain countered by insisting they allow her to bring home laundry every couple of days and cook for them occasionally. They relented, knowing that if they insisted her and Az do nothing, guilt would eat the couple alive.</p><p>Sensitive wasn’t a big enough word for how Rhysand felt since that terrible day he lost Feyre. His mental resilience was fluid, changing day-to-day, hour-to-hour. Emotionally, he was doing better with compartmentalizing; focusing on Stella when she needed him most and able to delay bouts of grief to process once he was alone. Cassian proved to be especially intuitive as it pertained to how close to the edge Rhys was leaning, and he never hesitated to capitalize on the time with Stella.</p><p>“Alright, officially Uncle Cass time,” the man sang, shocking Rhysand even now with his shamelessness when it came to his niece.</p><p>“I’m good,” Rhys assured him, only to be met with a pointed look from Cassian. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to feel obligated to save my ass constantly.”</p><p>His brother was already throwing a spit-up rag over his shoulder and extending his hands toward the babe, who kicked excitedly at her uncle’s approach.</p><p>“Not everything is about you, Rhys,” Cassian joked. “I need as much quality time with this beautiful girl as I can get if I want to stay her favorite.” The last statement was a string of baby talk meant more for Stella than anyone else.</p><p>Rhys huffed a laugh at that. “You really think you can edge Nesta out of 1st place?”</p><p>“Oh, that’s done. She was colicky the other night, and I walked her around on my bare shoulder for a hour or so. We’re as thick as thieves.”</p><p>“You’re creating a monster is what you’re doing.”</p><p>Cassian’s jaw dropped in mock outrage, his large hand flying up to cup Stella’s ear. “How dare you? Go take a nap.”</p><p>He offered Cassian a mock salute before turning on his heel and heading to the bedroom. Even if his body didn’t cooperate with the idea of a nap, at the very least he thought he could relax and unpack a little of his mental congestion. He threw himself onto his bed above the covers, face down and hugging his pillow snuggly underneath his head.</p><p>His brother was right, regardless of how little Rhys wanted to admit it. Sleep eluded him most of the time, and he found himself perpetually exhausted. Even on days where he slept plenty the previous night, his constantly fluctuating emotions took every ounce of his energy that wasn’t allocated to being a good father to Stella.</p><p>And gods, that little girl was his everything. There was a time where he would have said he fell for Feyre alarmingly fast, but becoming a father had given him whiplash for how quickly he fell. Once he had mastered himself enough to meet her in the NICU, he’d been absolutely smitten. The idea of fatherhood has still gripped him with a paralyzing anxiety, but being blessed with Stella completed a part of him that he never knew was missing. Within seconds, he wasn’t sure how he had ever lived a day without her.</p><p>That’s not to say he didn’t struggle to navigate parenthood without his soulmate beside him. Every benchmark, every milestone, he had pictured with Feyre by his side. Each one was so bittersweet; incredibly exciting to experience but always followed by a pang of sorrow and guilt that Feyre didn’t get to experience it, too. Rhysand berated himself some days, wishing for his daughter’s sake that he could be fully present for her. Everyone told him that he was an incredible dad and there would come a time where he didn’t feel that echo of loss so strongly. He didn’t have the heart to tell them that terrified him, too. The more days he counted down toward healing meant another day longer since he’d last held Feyre.</p><p>And so his internal battle continued on; striving to heal for himself and his daughter but unwilling to ‘look forward’ to the day he didn’t experience such pain at his wife’s absence. He knew she was gone; felt the cleaving in his chest anytime he thought about the finality of her death. The inner turmoil existed even as it related to something so central to his survival, like sleep. It was a necessity, yet the thought of falling asleep absolutely terrified him each night.</p><p>No amount of knowing stopped the vivid dreams from coming to him multiple times a week, where he would wake up sweating and reaching for her on the opposite side of their bed. On those nights he would pull her pillow toward him, lamenting over the fade of her scent, as his tears fell. Waking up to her ice-cold side of the bed was always too painful.</p><p>That being said, those blissful minutes of dreaming, where he got to spend any amount of time with Feyre, almost made all the pain in the aftermath worth it. He missed her viscerally, and the masochist within left him disappointed after a night of dreamless sleep.</p><p>Sometimes he woke up angry at the world, cursing the Cauldron and any god that existed that the most perfect woman was taken from their world too soon. His thoughts reminded him of an angry toddler; his thoughts ranging from “make the pain stop” to “none of this is fair”. Other times, he swore he heard her voice calling him from the other room, only to wake up to silence or the hushed voices of his brother and sister-in-law. Rest was a lose-lose all around, as it turned out.</p><p>Sleep must have overtaken him some minutes into his thoughts, because he startled awake upon hearing a familiar, soft voice. He lifted his head abruptly to orient toward the sound, only to be met with steel-blue eyes framed by golden brown hair. His breathing halted altogether as he tensed, the following seconds filled with a hectic scanning of his mind for anything that would make sense.</p><p>“Rhys? I didn’t mean to scare you— I just wanted you to know that I made dinner, and it’s ready,” Nesta announced softly.</p><p>Sadness, disappointment, and longing all hit him like a freight train, coursing through every inch of his body. In his disorientation his guard had been down, and his lovesick, grieving brain had latched fiercely onto the features Feyre shared with her eldest sister. After blinking a couple of times, their differences were undeniably obvious, but his mind had been all too willing to accept the possibility that Feyre was the one standing a few feet away. And gods, it hurt.</p><p>“Thanks, Nesta,” he managed, his voice betraying him by breaking on her name.</p><p>Tears fell down his face, and he tucked it back into his pillow in the hopes they would go unnoticed by his sister-in-law. He thought he would soon hear her retreat, but instead, he heard his bedroom door shutting softly and her gentle footfalls across his bedroom floor. His mattress dipped slightly as she perched on the edge near his hips, and her small hand rested on his shoulder blade.</p><p>“Want to talk about it?” she murmured.</p><p>Yes and no, he thought. How was he supposed to say, “Yeah, I woke up and thought for a second that you were Feyre. So now I’m a fucking wreck and disappointed that it was you, even though it has nothing to do with you. I appreciate everything you and Cassian do for me, but I miss my wife” to the woman who was giving everything to care for him and Stella? The woman who lost her youngest sister and had to see her in her own face every single day.</p><p>He rolled to his side to look at her, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hear if he spoke into the pillow.</p><p>“I miss her so fucking much, Nesta.”</p><p>“I know you do. You shouldn’t have to go through this, Rhys. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with Nesta, of all people, and that she was being so raw and open. Their relationship had been rocky to start and stable at best, yet she was exactly who he needed right now. He knew she wouldn’t wrap him in pretty words and false comforts, and there was something so reassuring in knowing everything she said was genuine.</p><p>“You shouldn’t either. None of it makes sense to me,” he said pitifully. “I have good days and bad, but no matter which it is, it doesn’t make sense.”</p><p>Nesta only nodded, urging him to continue if it was what he needed.</p><p>“I just want to talk to her, you know? She’s my best friend, and she’s gone.”</p><p>His sister-in-law grimaced in understanding of a pain she knew too well. It was several seconds before she spoke.</p><p>“So talk to her,” she suggested.</p><p>Rhysand only stared at her, hoping she would elaborate.</p><p>“I know that sounds really strange,” she explained, almost sheepish. “It’ll feel really odd the first couple of times, but talk to her as you normally would. She may not be an active participant in the traditional sense, but she’ll hear you. And anytime I’ve done it, I end up getting some sort of sign later on that she was with me.”</p><p>“Hm. Maybe I should try,” he responded.</p><p>“Do you think I’m crazy now?” Nesta asked with a small smirk.</p><p>He huffed a small laugh. “No. At least, no more than before.”</p><p>Who would have thought the two of them would be joking with one another? Definitely not Feyre, he mused.</p><p>A small chuckle sounded through the room as Nesta patted his shoulder. “I’ll give you that one because you’re hurting,” she conceded. “Take a few minutes and then come meet us for dinner, okay?”</p><p>“Yeah. I’ll be there soon,” he assured her. “And Nes?”</p><p>She stopped in his doorway, just as she was about to close it behind her.</p><p>“Thank you,” he called, earning a soft smile in return.</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>— 10 months later —</b>
  </em>
</p><p>It turned out that Nesta had been correct in how incredibly therapeutic talking to Feyre could be. He had started that day, nothing more than a couple of comments here and there. He could almost hear her snarky replies or soothing words depending on the subject, and somehow, that alone help to combat the gaping hole in his chest that was his missing other half.</p><p>More recently, he found that he felt compelled to have these conversations less and less. Over time, the prominence of Feyre’s absence dwindled, replaced by an ability for Rhysand to notice her continued presence in his life where he’d been too blinded by grief to see it before. He missed her just as much, but he thanked the Cauldron that he was starting to notice and appreciate the little ways she lived on.</p><p>Feyre was all around him when he let himself see it. He was finally strong enough to actively note those things without it reducing him to a shell of himself. He noticed her in their family; Nesta’s eyes, her stubbornness, and her fierce protectiveness. She was in Elain’s laugh, her sense of responsibility to her family, and in their identical handwriting. Feyre even shined through Azriel and Cassian; Azriel’s wit and sense of humor and Cassian’s loyalty and competitiveness.</p><p>And last, but definitely not least, she shone the brightest in Stella. Everyday she grew older, she looked more and more like her mother. There were times where she would level her father with a look, or her eyes would crinkle as she laughed. Rhysand would be struck dumb at how much of Feyre’s likeness lived through her during those small, priceless moments. He wasn’t sure how he would have survived her mother’s loss without her.</p><p>It was Stella’s birthday, and he decided to start the day by bringing her to visit Feyre. They would catch up, pay their respects, and then they would spend the rest of the day absolutely spoiling the joy of his life rotten. He sat near Feyre’s headstone and read it aloud to Stella, and the baby babbled along as if she were contributing as well. He could have sworn he heard Feyre’s laugh through the wind at her daughter.</p><p>Rhys launched into life’s updates, providing Feyre with cliff notes of their family and spending the most time telling her of all of Stella’s newest developments. Laughter shook him as he described their daughter’s newest fascination with any writing utensil and whatever flat surface she could reach. He knew Feyre would get a special kick out of that one; her artist’s soul infiltrating her little clone.</p><p>His words trailed off, and he realized at Stella’s furrowed brow that tears were running down his cheeks. He whisked them away quickly to attempt to ease her worries, but she lowered her head and pushed off his lap. He watched as she braced both hands on the grass and pushed herself to stand, turning around to face her father. She grabbed his face with the lack of gentleness expected of a 1-year-old.</p><p>“Daddy,” she said, reducing him to tears again at her empathy.</p><p>“Daddy’s okay, Stel. It’s okay,” he murmured.</p><p>She gripped his cheeks tighter, causing his mouth to pout and cheeks to smoosh forward. He blew a raspberry at her, sending her into a fit of giggles. And just like that, her worries were gone. He wished he could promise to do that for her forever.</p><p>She threw her body toward him, trusting in her dad as a sure, soft place to land. Her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and he returned the hug in kind. He held her, and as if sensing just what he needed, she held onto him longer than her short attention span would normally allow. His eyes caught on the short epitaph on Feyre’s headstone, one half of a blessing they’d said together so many years ago.</p><p>
  <em>To the people who look at the stars and wish.</em>
</p><p>He smiled wistfully at the words, hearing them in her soft, beautiful voice.</p><p>“To the stars who listen,” he responded aloud.</p><p>At his voice, Stella released him, and he lowered his forehead to hers to finish his half, knowing she was truly the greatest gift of his life. “And the dreams that are answered.”</p>
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